Conquer
by NauruAyumi
Summary: OneShot AkiGure At the inn where Kyo and Tohru have been married. He's sick of being used, sick of never getting what he wants. He wants her to finally learn. Shigure loves her and he hates her. Theres something in the air. Contagious Concepts pt7


Part Seven - Contagious Concepts- A concept for my each of my favorite Furuba pairings. They take place after the reception of Tohru and Kyo's wedding (they're 22, it took him awhile to get the guts to ask her...). Its a moonlit night and there is something contagious in the air.

I'll be posting them as separate one-shots, because the ratings will change between them.

If you enjoy this one, please read my Kakeru x Komaki fic called 'Conference', my Arisa x Kureno fic called 'Content', Yuki x Machi fic called 'Confident', my Kisa x Hiro fic called 'Confess', my Hatori x May fic called 'Concern', and my Rin x Haru fic called 'Confront'.

Disclaimer- Furuba isn't mine.

R&R! I'd love to know what you think. Tell me which fic/pairing I should post/write next! No flames please, flames hurt. But kind criticism is appreciated.

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He was decidedly sick of her stupid rules, and he only stuck with her because she owned him, body and soul no matter how curse-free he may be.

It had not been an easy day, to say the least. She had been so angry he could barely drag her from her room, a secluded suite far away from most of the other guests, and she was so vehemently against attending it almost made him angry. He was ready to leave her behind and go enjoy the celebration as best he could and she would have let him but he knew it was not what she really wanted. She wanted him to make her come along, to convince her, so she could blame it on him when she didn't have any fun. Then, if he left her behind, she could be sullen (more so than usual, if possible) when he returned, and give him the silent treatment for neglecting her.

How obnoxiously obstinate.

He'd forced her to make an appearance and let her languish in a corner making non-conversation with animated students from Kazuma's dojo. He'd nearly laughed when he peeked over to see her glowering with such intense dislike that no one save the totally oblivious martial-artists would want to spend any time with her.

If there was anything he could understand about her, it was that she didn't want to be there, in the place where all the people she believed had abandoned her gathered to watch the happiness of the couple that had taken them away from her. He knew that she also knew that Tohru and Kyo were not her enemies any more. That battle was lost to her, yet her resentment was deep if not verbalized. So Shigure, being the unkind person that he was, made a point to enjoy himself as much as possible.

Rubbing it in her face was something he'd never learned to stop doing, and he wondered if it wasn't just a little masochistic to earn her spite so wholeheartedly. He had a drink with Tohru's charming friends, and with his ex-editor (who was there, surprisingly, as Ritsu's date), and with Mayuko, and with Tohru's exuberant but very old grandfather. He made witty and lighthearted conversation, feeling a happy buzz through his veins. He ignored the dark shadow hating him from the corner.

She was afraid of being alone, he knew, but she also forced her loneliness on herself, rejecting anyone who came close enough. Even he found himself continuously rejected, though he'd been the one to hold her when she cried for the last four years.

Demons seemed to be something she attracted and the wedding brought her old ones back to her in full force and she'd tried, he knew, to make amends. But there were things that she was having a lot of trouble getting over.

She'd stormed out after putting on a surprisingly convincing happy-face when he'd dragged her up to the happy couple to give their congratulations. He knew she wanted him to follow her and comfort her. Play the doting and concerned lover. But he'd rather not, preferring to refuse her what she wanted as if she would learn something that way.

He couldn't help it. He was the expert on tough love, but things were getting out of hand.

First of all, he was sick of walking in a room and finding her collapsed on the floor. She sat there, wallowing in her own self-pity as if she expected him to run over and ask her if she was okay, check her vitals and give her an excuse to whine about the multitudes of things that were making her sick.

Then, she would pick herself off the ground like every bone in her body hurt and be on him in an instant. She moved too fast to be convincingly physically ill. She would throw herself at him, totally determined to get what she wanted. And he was a pathetic enough man that that he couldn't deny her, instead choosing to sate himself with her body.

She threw herself at him and then only let him kiss her once, a brief and needy tug of lips and a flick of her tongue, and for the rest of the encounter wouldn't let him anywhere near her mouth. He would try to seduce her, kissing her neck in a path to her lips but she never failed to turn her head at the last moment and he would land his sloppy kiss on her cheek or her jaw. She kept herself from him and he was offended by it. Why shouldn't he have the right to her soul when she took his from him every time he succumbed to her?

He was sick of never possessing her.

She hated her body, hated being a woman because it meant that she needed him to be a man for her, so she rejected it. She didn't even grant him the pleasure of having her unclothed beneath him. Her sexuality seemed alien to her, and she didn't like the power it held over her. So, her mindset matched: if she had to do it, she certainly wasn't going to let him enjoy it.

She was anything but silent in bed, but she moved against him that he drove into her with anger, grasping at her hips so that at least she would have the imprints of his fingers in her skin when she awoke and pushed him away later. With all her nearly tortured sounds of pain and desire she never did anything that made him want her in the way he wanted to want her.

Why should he, the person who cared about her most, be made to push his love aside in the name of meaningless, trivial sex?

When at last he drove her over the edge and into a place where she was at last free of her multitudes of fears, she never, not once, screamed his name. Not moaned it, nor said it, nor even whispered it. It was as if she was sleeping with no one. It was quite insulting. He felt used, filthy, cheated.

It was slightly the fault of his idiotic and stupidly male body. Just thinking about her waiting for him to come inside so she could be satisfied was enough to film his vision with lust. But lust wasn't always what he'd had with her. When they were very young they didn't have to deal with lust. He'd simply loved her with his whole being.

Partially, he could blame it on Kureno. He would have been a very considerate lover, and despite her abuse, Akito never really had it in her to be anything less than comforted by him. Between them, it had never been this base thing they had now. He could tell she just wanted him to jar her body enough that her mind would be distracted. It was not a job for a lover, he felt like a disgusting slut of a caretaker, hired to keep her occupied and in working order. A damn plumber, and not the sexy kind that comes into a house and seduces the lonely housewife.

So he was rightfully bitter. He watched her sleep, the way her fingers never really relaxed, becoming talons against her futon and her eyes clenched as if she was having a nightmare. All of her insecurities came out when she slept, and he felt somehow justified to know that she wasn't just using him out of boredom. She was one twisted girl, without a doubt.

The cool light of the moon reflecting off of the whitewashed garden wall lit up her pale skin. He wouldn't compare it to pearls, it was too sallow. She'd been off her food, pouting about the wedding. She looked like an angry child, indignant over some injustice done to her, who fell asleep angry. There was no way she would be happy when she woke up. Insides sore and muscles aching, she'd take it out on him and not talk to him the entire car ride home, and then she'd lock herself in her room and set the Nazi-maids on him.

As unappealing a color her skin was, nothing could compare to Akito's hair. It was perfect, though a little short for his tastes. It was soft and light, like down stolen from beneath the coarse wing-feathers of a raven. The blue-white glow surrounding the two of them could do nothing to dim the inky color. He stared into it, his heart torn between loving her and hating her.

She was everything, but she had a lot to learn. He was not her toy. He was not to be used and discarded. If she pushed him too far he would break.

He'd had enough of having his lust sated and his desire never satisfied.

Eyes cold, he stared at her, looking like a tormented angel in a tangle of her bed-clothes and yukata. He could see the gentle curve of her breast in shadow where her sash had loosened.

Somewhere in the nearby distance he heard a husky cry, its origin unmistakable. Someone else was making a physical connection at this wedding.

_"Haru!"_

Aha. Shigure chuckled slightly. He'd give him crap about that in the morning. He'd seen Rin at the ceremony, with surprise. She'd been AWOL for a very long time. Obviously, the two had reconciled.

The sound repeated itself, and Shigure found himself a little embarrassed. It was very late at night indeed and he felt as if he was intruding. He tried to shut the sound out, without too much success.

"…Shigu…re…"

His head turned sharply to Akito's unconscious form. Her voice was feeble and weary, but innocent and without guile. The voice of a dreamer. This is what she dreamed of. The girl who became the woman he loved dreamed of him.

The idea was quite romantic, even for him, and spiked something familiar yet different inside.

She'd said his name. And he wanted her to do it conscious.

Gently, slowly, he reached over and ran his fingers through her hair. Her skull felt fragile, like it would bend without too much complaint if she jerked her neck too suddenly. He pushed himself down until he was lying next to her, face to face, without stopping his careful attentions to her perfect hair.

Her eyes blinked open, still misty with her dreams and tainted blue by the moonlight. His own pair was reflected in hers; burning with something she'd never taken the time to look for.

Akito had to know he wanted her. The burn through his skin where he touched her forehead was proof of that. But this time he wanted her to know he loved her. And that she loved him in return. And that she just had to discover that what he wanted was better than what she thought she wanted.

His cool thumb painted circles on her thin cheek and he just stared into her eyes, willing her to be still.

Perhaps it was the contagious and intangible feeling radiating from the moon, but she didn't argue, for once in her obstinate life.

He lifted her slightly and bent enough to brush her lips with his own. They were cool and dry, he noticed, as her eyes slipped closed.

He kissed her, slowly and thoroughly. This was a kiss she'd never experienced. It was not to shut her up or to indulge her. It was taking as much as it was giving. There was warmth building, a friction between them. This time, Shigure would control it. It wouldn't be a pair of cheese graters rubbing against each other. That was unpleasant. It was all about balance, he moved his lips smoothly against hers, careful not to be forceful. Forceful, she knew how to handle. It was kindness she didn't understand. He could feel her questioning it, wondering. This was against the routine.

Fine. He could go against the routine.

She pulled her face away after a short moment, and he gave her a firm look. He tangled his fingers in her hair. There would be no escaping this time. Her eyes were panicked as he held her face close enough that their noses were almost touching it. He was threatening her with it, the second kiss, the one that would take the control from her. Fingers gently rubbed her scalp and the uneasiness in her expression changed to pleasure. He brought their faces together for the second time, letting a fraction of his passion show through.

Tonight, he would kiss her as often as he wanted. And she would learn to enjoy it.

Tonight, she would say his name, because tonight she would know something she'd never known before.

Tonight is not a night to conquer, he whispered in her ear. It is not me controlling you or you using me. It is us, being happy in each other.

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R&R please! Hope you enjoyed!


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